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One hundred copies printed on Japan paper, 
numbered and signed. 

Five hundred numbered copies printed on 
Marais hand-made paper. 

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THE LAMP OF GOLD 



V 



THE LAMP OF GOLD 



BY 

FLORENCE L 
•^NOW 




CHICAGO 

V/AY AND 

WILLIAMS 




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PBiirrsD AT mi di vixkr rtm. 
TiTU-rAoi nauonto it umriiD h. oAtacrr. 



' ' / fancy you are mistaken, '' said Hilda, 
smiling. "There was a meaning and a 
purpose in each of its seven branches, and 
such a candlestick cannot be lost forever/' 

The Marble Faun, 



CONTENTS 

The Sacred Fire 11 

Daybreak 27 

Mid-morning 43 

Noon 59 

Western Windows 75 

Eventide 91 

The Perfect Light 107 



THE SACRED FIRE 



I 

A poet heard, one happy summer day, 
A tender maiden speaking low and sweet, 
And, caring only that he might obey. 
Plunged deep into the waters at her feet. 
Where, in the slime of ages long since dead. 
He found a lamp of tawny, twisted gold. 
And, bearing it aloft above his head, 
He pleaded that its story should be told. 
But lo ! she only turned her radiant eyes 
Upon the distance where the Holy Land 
Rested at peace beneath the peaceful skies. 
Nor touched the treasure in his eager hand, — 
Then breathed upon him, ''Who enthralls the night, 
Of his own spirit must control the light." 

13 



II 

If it were but a dream he never knew 
When afterwards he Uved the time again ; 
But from that hour his highest purpose grew 
To finer feehng for the needs of men. 
The virgin metal beaten from the soul 
Of God's own workman lifted out and up 
On each good branch its consecrated bowl, — 
And his the task to fill each wondrous cup. 
For he had wandered through the wilderness, 
And through the desert had been curtained in ; 
In many a temple he had knelt to bless 
The boundless love that triumphs over sin ; 
Nor would he ever spare the purest oil 
That he had pressed from out the heart of toil. 



15 



Ill 

He read once more, as on the sacred page, 
The mystic meaning of the deathless fire 
That blent into the Christly heritage 
In full fruition of the world's desire ; 
And slowly tracing through the eastern lands 
The flame that burnt with such transcendent power, 
The faith that blossomed for its deep demands 
Burgeoned again into more perfect flower. 
And every flower in turn, transformed to flame, 
Illumined every heaven-lifted dome 
That, bravely buih upon the mighty Name, 
Upheld the glory of eternal Rome, — 
Then fixed a path upon the circling seas, 
Forever leading unto wider ministries. 

17 



IV 

The life that holdeth love a thing apart 
From any slightest labor must disclose 
The utter weakness of the rarest art 
Its dearest aspiration ever knows. 
Who does not give in constant sacrifice 
The buoyant blood that courses through his veins 
Has less than naught for all his best emprise 
In righteous ruling of his utmost pains. 
For without love no worthy work may be, 
And without death creative power were done ; 
Herein there lies all happy victory, 
And here all growth and gladness are begun. 
Cast in a mould beyond a fleck or flaw, 
'T is only love that can fulfill the law. 

19 



And even as the majesty of day 
Gives to the v^orld a part of every hue 
The sun has braided in each royal ray, 
So love to many a chord must e'er be true. 
Surely it sifts its life and loveliness 
From every turn and tint of circumstance^ 
Nor leaves the purity it would express 
To any shadow of untoward chance ; 
But never wearied in its patient quest, 
It searches out its own high destiny, 
And by the truth made wholly manifest, 
It gains the touch of perfect liberty. 
What seeming good shall ever be denied. 
The freedom of the spirit must abide. 



21 



VI 

What endless lines of beauty curve about 
The central force that doth all things create ! 
What splendid color, woven in and out, 
Imbues the wonder of the earth's estate ! 
And, ever widening to the reverent hand, 
What deep dominion lies in human skill 
Exalted, step by step, to understand 
Some little measure of the sovereign will ! 
From round to round the sweet, triumphant breath 
Inspires the humblest craft and highest art ; 
The greatest word a mighty poet saith 
Finds in the lowliest life a certain counterpart. 
So be that it is good when it be done, 
All work is beautiful, all beauty one. 

23 



VII 

And thus my poet mused, his ripening thought 
Reaching into the changing harmony 
Whereby the changing centuries are taught 
How days long done are linked with days to be. 
The Voice that throbbed across the formless deep, 
Setting the shining spheres in ordered space, 
Must speak forever in the precious sweep 
W^here wandering souls are given primal place. 
And with the burden of a glad new song 
Upon his ready lip he went his way, 
His spirit lifted all serene and strong 
Unto the splendor of a vast new day. 
And whoso rightly heareth shall behold 
The light that burns within the lamp of gold. 

25 



DAYBREAK 



I 

When first I felt the wonder drawing near 
'T was when, a helpless alien, all alone, 
I bent my head beneath the dark and fear 
That pressed upon me from the great unknown. 
There was no thought of any light to be 
In all the limits of the brooding night ; 
No glimmer in the dense obscurity 
To give the slightest hope of surer sight. 
Yet even as the motionless profound 
Was moved to meet the first transcendent day. 
My soul was stirred within its deadening round. 
In dim desire of some superior sway, — 
And then the word spake through me from afar, 
And stayed the shadows with a silver bar. 



29 



II 

And, slowly wakened to the broadening line 

That slowly cleft the smothering mist in twain, 

My senses came a little to define 

The earth and sky in half-considered gain ; 

Then, with the flushing heavens bent to me. 

And some strong certainty beneath my feet, 

I turned my face full on the mystery, — 

My poet's music sweeter and more sweet, — 

For, once aware, in my great impotence. 

Of rhythm and of courage, all my heart 

Yearned forth beneath the mystic Where and Whence, 

The How and Why that measure life and art. 

And dreamed of curious questions one by one. 

Had not the dreaming dawn for once begun ? 

31 



Ill 

blessed wonderings of the blessed time 
When life looks out upon the rose and gray 
That hold the secret of a perfect prime 
Folded within the promise of the day ! 
When life looks out, and all its ignorance 
Is like all knowledge in the endless space 
That may not feel the wavering touch of chance 
In any realm of its unmeasured grace. 
The buoyant breath of universal air 
To every throbbing thought makes due reply ; 
And throbbing thought, in its unfretted care. 
No marvel in the meaning can deny ; 
And, working out the forces of new birth, 
The heights and depths reveal their matchless worth. 

33 



IV 

No wonder when the dayspring from on high 
Descended on the weary sons of men 
The angels chanted in the kindhng sky 
Such joyous chorus over and again, 
Since every daybreak, in some certain sense, 
The splendor of that morning should unfold 
In tender glimpses of omnipotence 
Beyond the filmy veil of gray and gold ; 
And every spirit that should come to see 
Its own great gift of gladness in the light 
Should join the deep, encircling harmony 
In freedom from the subtle bonds of night. 
And dark and dawn, forever reconciled. 
Should mirror forth the glory of the Child. 

36 



'T was well for me that on that precious morn 
When heaven and my poet found me out, 
And to myself my nobler self was born 
Beyond the power of questioning or doubt, 
I was a child in body as in heart, 
With radiant reaches of my time to grow. 
And, stretching up, absorbed my little part 
Of all my little world rejoiced to show. 
And yet I knew not anything was small. 
For, looking through so sweet an atmosphere, 
The widest portals opened at my call. 
And mighty mysteries came close and clear, 
And all the royal heralds of the sun 
Brought me their boundless treasures one by one. 



37 



VI 

The after years hold nothing half so sweet 
As this first conscious turning toward the hills. 
And first discoveries so fair and fleet 
Among the shining fields of daffodils ; 
No after song-search may at all compare, 
However fortunate the soul may be, 
With this first sense that all the ambient air 
Is filled with song but waiting to break free ; — 
When budding life breathes in on every hand, 
The life and love of stone and stream and flower, 
And grows, not knowing how to understand, 
Into some likeness of creative power, — 
Careless of words, but reaching for the tone 
Made through the ages for its very own. 

39 



VII 

In such delight and fertile eagerness, 
My sovereign singer, I reached forth at length 
Thy miracle within me to express, 
In timid test of all my utmost strength ; 
But all my efforts only could repeat 
The magic measures I had learned of thee, — 
Gould only take thy rhythm to complete 
My broken thread of groping melody. 
Yet, breathing over each beloved line. 
And shaping every note in reverent rote, 
I came, in sudden greatness, to define 
The power and purpose of thy leading note ; 
And then my heart leapt out free as a bird — 
I too should sing, — and, singing, should be heard ! 

41 



MID-MORNING 



I 

He values freedom most who once hath been 
Deprived of his accustomed hberty ; 
And when my stupid teachers shut me in, 
The outer world was everything to me. 
To follow round the wearisome routine 
Of tedious lessons that were never done 
Inspired the morning with a dazzling sheen 
It only knew when lessons were begun ; 
The sunny sweetness of the beaten way 
By which I reached betimes my prison door 
Was ne'er so sweet as when its bright array 
Thro' troubled texts shone brighter than before, 
And painted over every tiresome task 
The rarest pictures human heart could ask. 



45 



II 

How good it was beneath the mounting morn 
To loiter past the hazel thicket where 
The baby nuts in such green growth were born 
And hid away with such especial care ! 
And then to lean against the ancient elm 
That always watched my journeys to and fro, 
And, looking upward, find the fairy realm 
That only birds and children ever know ! 
Or, stretched full length upon the mossy ground. 
Where fringing fern so tenderly uncurled. 
How dear it was to catch the elfin sound 
That sometimes echoes from the under-world, 
And learn the secrets of the quiet nook 
So fondly cherished by the faithful brook ! 

47 



Ill 

Oh, sweeter far than flute or flageolet 
That ever caught the breath of Arcady, 
The silver stream at every turn was set 
To some new phase of liquid harmony ; 
And when I crossed the shining stepping-stones, 
The magic music, slipping slowly past, 
Wove such a web of soft, enchanting tones 
It could not fail to hold me safe and fast ; 
Nor could I fail to give back song for song 
In murmurous croonings 'neath the happy spell, 
Forgetting that I still must fare along 
Until I heard the master's brazen bell. 
What poor exchange for wood and stream and sky. 
The utmost skill that he might hope to try ! 

49 



IV 

How great a puzzle that the lettered lines 
Upon one page make only puzzles clear, 
While through another all the sunlight shines, 
And marshaled ranks of poetry appear. 
But whoso follows, though with lagging feet, 
The mighty music of the mighty host 
In every problem finds a rhythmic beat. 
And hardly knows which reading means the most. 
And so I came, because my poet willed. 
To see how God's two worlds together grow — 
The springing fountain must be wholly filled 
Before the grateful waters overflow ; 
The poorest master then had learned to teach 
Some bit of beauty that I longed to reach. 

61 



From book to book, like some quick honey-bee 
That flits all day from flower to fresher flower, 
I dipped into each wondrous treasury, 
And gathered sweetness with unwearied power. 
The wildest weed and fairest garden-rose 
Gave forth the bounty of the summer sun ; 
Impassioned rhyme and cultivated prose — 
All sorts of blossoming — to me were one. 
And so I built from cell to golden cell, 
Scarce conscious of the swarming human hive 
Where countless other creatures stored as well 
The same delight in everything alive. 
Is not the nectar of the dear unknown 
Most deeply generous when sipped alone ? 



68 



VI 

To feel the joy of effort more and more, 
To gleam and glow with iridescent thought, 
In very gladness opens wide the door 
Upon the selfish hoard so sweetly sought. 
But none may enter in who does not share 
His own attainments to the last degree, — 
Such interchange hath everything to spare 
And everything to keep most sacredly. 
And when I found a bright prophetic face 
Impressed with all I meant some time to know, 
I could not hide the slightest gift or grace 
That in my solitude had charmed me so, — 

No matter what ambition may bestir, 

Love is the only true interpreter. 

55 



VII 

Together — the dear, dehcious word — 
We pressed upon the smihng universe, 
Uniting all that we had seen and heard 
Like golden coin within a common purse; 
Together cast a splendid horoscope, 
Each for the other in our eager pride. 
Nor ever dreamed the most ethereal hope 
Too frail or fair to be a proper guide. 
And so each forward step in our emprise 
Brought such increasing wonder and acclaim. 
We knew that we might lift our favored eyes 
To any height that we should chance to name, 
And every marvel of the precious time 
I fashioned over into precious rhyme. 



57 



NOON 



I 

As when a happy mocking-bird essays 
To imitate amid the forest choir 
The rarest and most varied roundelays 
In very overflow of glad desire, 
My joyous verse attempted many a strain 
In likeness of the world's great minstrelsy, 
Nor counted any cost that might attain 
The skill that lies in such dear mimicry. 
But while the bird, despite its borrowing, 
Perfects the beauty of its own sweet song, 
'T was such device that taught me how to sinj 
And how to listen to the gifted throng, — 
And though I tried so much without avail, 
I felt the force that cannot wholly fail. 

61 



II 

How can I ever pay the debt I owe 
To that high company whose royal line 
Upgathers every thought that life can know 
In harmony so deep and so divine ? 
How shall I prove me worthy of the love 
That lifted me into the radiant sphere, 
And placed within my hands the keys thereof 
As one ordained for vision free and clear? 
love, my Love, and love of poetry. 
Although thy largess hath no measurement. 
There is no debt that can be due to thee 
Save poetry and love in full content ; 
But no one can fulfill his dearest vow 
Without the double seal upon his brow. 

63 



Ill 

The poet's question and its sure reply 
In the beginning gave my quickened touch 
The strength my Love was quickest to descry, 
Rejoicing that it promised me so much. 
And wrapped so close in love I could not guess 
Between the two great masters of my heart, 
That either was the greater or the less, 
Until the world began to praise my art. 
Then I was certain that my verse should take 
The noblest that was in me hour by hour, 
And even love, for its surpassing sake, 
Should sacrifice all claim upon my power, — 
Could any consecration e'er abide 
That did not thrust the inmost self aside ? 

65 



IV 

Who has not journeyed in the pride of youth 
Amid the perils of a mountain track, 
Where but a step, regardless of the truth, 
Would quench all hope in some abysmal wrack? 
And thus I traveled on my chosen height 
Along the dreadful verge of self-deceit, 
Veiled in vain-glory from the gracious light 
That God had sent to guide my wayward feet. 
And, hastening on, mv danofer unconfessed, 
I trembled o'er the chasm of despair, 
Until love drew me back upon its breast, 
And gave me new belief and courage there. 
And loving my dear Love so much the more, 
I loved my art still better than before. 

67 



This love of ours was no exotic bloom, 
Though all so rare in every tint and vein ; 
No gorgeous growth freighted with dense perfume, 
Perfected through imprisoned heat and rain ; 
It was the flowering of the out-door air, 
The common soil, and cool, caressing dew, — 
The simple bounty of the heavenly care. 
And fraught with heavenly odors through and through. 
Its rootlets struck so deep into the mold. 
That every finest fiber found the heart 
Wherein the hidden springs of life unfold, 
And burgeon out in endless counterpart ; 
And, facing up before the searching sun, 
It touched its high commissions one by one. 



69 



VI 

To give again all that it ever knows 
Through earth and sky in calyx-cup and seed,— 
The purpose of the humblest flower that grows 
Must be the spirit of the highest creed ; 
And our great love in no wise could forget 
How wide a service in our boundary 
Demanded that its marvels should be met 
For every gift with utmost ministry. 
Art could be great only as love revealed 
The truth triumphant and the sacred way, 
And most exalted love were half-concealed 
Only as art should perfectly obey. 
With such a message always to repeat 
What inflorescence were so passing sweet ? 

71 



VII 

As one who is anointed from on high 
For every holy issue made for men, 
For love and labor in untold supply, 
I set me to my singing once again. 
The wondrous work had fully chosen me 
Beyond all question or remotest doubt, 
And I could only fashion fearlessly 
What life and love together pointed out. 
So, like the Sibyl at her wave-washed door, 
Who cast her countless leaves upon the wind, 
Freely I flung abroad my gathering store 
For any needful traveler to find, — 
When all the mid-day burns so crystal-pure 
The slightest utterance is strong and sure. 

73 



WESTERN WINDOWS 



I 

The gladdest singer voices many a strain, 
Beneath the anguish sobbing through the world, 
That feels the impress of the sacred gain 
Within the heart of grief so purely pearled. 
He cannot rightly gauge the major chords 
That measure out his own great happiness, 
Without the minor meaning that affords 
The fullest force to all he would express. 
But though he touches every precious note 
His art demands for perfect harmony, 
The sweetest song that pulses from his throat 
Only defines the singer's sympathy, — 
He may not reach the poet's highest grace 
Till he has stood with Sorrow face to face. 



77 



II 

I told myself the truth, divining how 
The life about me found its finest tone 
Within the beauty of the holy vow 
The spirit makes through suffering alone. 
To sing my joy were service far too small, 
When grief demanded comfort everywhere, — 
What could avail unless I too should fall 
Into the deeps and learn to triumph there? 
I thought my strength sufficient to endure 
The keenest trial known to human heart. 
Nor felt my calling could be really sure 
Till pain had purged the dross from out my art, 
But when the moment of my trial came 
Only the common weakness met the flame. 

79 



Ill 

How could I know the swift-descending fire 
Would kindle all about the golden shrine 
Where I had heaped the fruits of glad desire 
Withholding nothing in my rare design? 
How could I see, so suddenly bereft, 
The hand of mercy in the cruel loss, 
Or feel that any slightest hope were left 
Beneath the burden of so great a cross ? 
And so, forgetting Christ had gone before 
Along the crowded way to Calvary, 
My stricken soul but questioned more and more 
How it could live through such deep agony, — 
How should the mother-heart be comforted. 
If all its highest quickening were dead ? 

81 



IV 

dear Strong-Heart, how had I ever kept 
The feeblest faith but for thy steadfast hold 
Upon the surety I had most bewept 

As thrusting me away from its fair fold ? 

1 had not come in my distress to prove 

The precious power I could not hope to reach, 
When through the glass of our transcendent love 
I sought so much of heavenly grace to teach. 
I had but touched upon the boundless sphere 
Of God's compassion, measured from our own. 
Nor felt my straitened spirit draw so near 
The sacred source of all that we had known ; 
Oh, but for thee, this righteous chastening 
Had well destroyed the least desire to sing ! 

83 



The fiercest storm that sweeps across the land, 
Blotting the glory from the summer skies, 
Unfolds new leaves of love on every hand 
All richly charactered for chosen eyes. 
And when the conquering sun shines forth again, 
As if he were rejoicing through and through. 
The endless service of the wind and rain 
From breadth to breadth expands before the view ; 
Then heaven and earth unitedly reveal 
Such wondrous depths of God's encirchng care 
That all the depths beyond can scarce conceal 
The fuller revelation other- where ; 
No longer holden, I had come to see 
What all the strain and stress had done for me. 



85 



VI 

I looked abroad into the broadening west 
As I had looked into the growing morn, 
Eager to make the promise manifest 
Enfolded in the beauty yet unborn. 
Yet with the wonder of the early day 
I had the touch of every passing hour, 
And every messenger that came my way 
Had given me some portion of his dower. 
Both good and ill, but always inmost good. 
Had shaped me ready for my grave new birth, 
And in my grave new joy I understood 
What worlds of rhythm bind us to the earth, — 
The lark that soars upon the highest round. 
Still keeps its nesting-place upon the ground. 



87 



VII 

The heavenly chrism fresh upon my head, 
And every power renewed in quickened trust, 
I could but follow where the spirit led. 
And simply sing whatever song I must. 
I could but share, as in the mid-day glow, 
The dearest forces throbbing to my hand ; 
But I had come by so much more to know 
The wider issues waiting my demand, — 
By so much more, that every thread of thought 
My larger purpose loyally defined. 
In all the shining reaches that I sought 
Held me the nearer to all human kind ; 
And more and more the words I found to speed 
Were drawn from out the depths of human need. 



EVENTIDE 



I 

Why should it be when one has barely come 
To find the forces that he may command, 
That his dear day completes its largest sum 
Within the darkness creeping o'er the land ? 
Why should the warning come so soon, so soon, 
That all his bravest work must change and pass, 
And but the margin of the afternoon 
May be reflected from his finest glass ? 
The spirit falters 'neath the sinking sun, 
But whoso reads himself and God aright 
Must know that even when the day is done 
He still may grasp new measures of delight, — 
That all his strength may haply be more strong 
As moved upon by some great even-song. 

93 



II 

How sweet the shadows are that softly close 
Upon the shifting boundaries of the world 
Against the gonfalons of gold and rose 
Through all the sky so wondrously unfurled ! 
How fair and free the countless banners float, 
Borne onward in their royal pageantry, 
Till every hill and plain, howe'er remote. 
Thrills back the sense of some new harmony ! 
And when the glory fades amid the hush 
That deepens downward with the deepening mist. 
The dreams of men take on the morning flush 
That shimmers through the evening amethyst. 

Only the blessed child may enter in 

The kingdoms where the heavenly powers begin. 

95 



Ill 

''What matter if the earth grow less and less," 
My heart repeated in a glad refrain, 
' ' When such a revelation can express 
The fulness of such far exceeding gain?" 
All I had ever known or felt before 
Of truth or fealty or transcendent toil, 
Appeared to me a new-created store 
Upspringing from a new-created soil ; 
Yet all I was and all I yet might be 
Was holden by the world's unbroken claim, 
I could not draw the breath of liberty 
Save in the service it should chance to frame, — 
With every fiber of the soul's increase 
Some new demand requires the touch of peace. 

97 



irfiatfi H 



IV 

I felt myself encompassed by a cloud 
Of shining witnesses for love and truth, 
In life-long mysteries that breathed aloud 
The blessed surety of eternal youth. 
The tender tones that tremble o'er the line 
Where silence waits upon the shores of sound 
Filled all my thought with music so divine 
Utmost desire no further could abound. 
And with my sacred joy I marveled much 
That any human heart had ever heard 
The dull half-notes that my imperfect touch 
Had ventured forth as my expressive word, — 
So small my labor seemed, so large the sphere 
Where heaven and earth as blent in one appear. 

99 



loyal Love, whatever may betide 

The simple song that means so much to me, 

What guerdon may be given or denied, 

Still every chord is true as truth to thee ; 

It still responds to that great over-love 

Which from the first has prompted all my quest. 

And, knowing this, how should we care to prove 

By praise or blame what may be worst or best? 

Yet with the sweet assurance and content 

That good work brings throughout the busy day, 

1 could but feel the forces still unspent. 
And press more earnestly upon my way. 

But with the very most my love could do. 
To thee, Love, it still were only true. 



101 



VI 

I well remember once when we had read 
How every spoken word that men might share 
Can never be as lost or void or dead, 
But lives forever in the moving air, — 
How long we questioned if the careless tones 
That we sent forth should circle round again. 
And if we should escape the playful moans 
We mingled with the speech we uttered then. 
But now the echoes whispering far and near 
Brought back so much of my poor melody, 
Through every change I could not help but hear 
The lingering burden of its varied key, — 
And then I knew that no one might evade 
The slightest winged note he had betrayed. 



303 



VII 

Thanks be to God whose all-sufficient grace 
Inspires the faint beginning with the end : 
His mercy does not ask us to replace 
The broken chords no human power can mend ; 
But note by note he leads us surely on, 
And fashions all our effort to the plan 
Whereby the summits of eternal dawn 
Are lifted over every bar and ban. 
And so I sung the wider, freer hope 
That stretched away before my raptured sight,— 
Sung all I fathomed in the boundless scope 
That lay beyond the borders of the night; 
For I had found, with naught to intervene, 
The mighty rhythm of the vast serene. 



105 



THE PERFECT LIGHT 



I 

As day to day proclaims its tender speech, 
And nisfht to night its knowled2;e doth declare, 
The gift of Hfe can never fail to reach 
The kindred life created otherwhere. 
The living word speeds onward to its own, 
Nor stops for any guerdon or reply, 
Content to feel in every slightest tone 
The beauty and delight that never die. 
And so the singer who restored in song 
The sacred symbol of the heavenly fire. 
And those who come its marvels to prolong. 
Are linked forever in the one desire ; 
For God and man and music yet to be 
Have wrought upon their inmost harmony. 

109 



II 

Who seeks the source of song must look to Him 

In whom all rhythm and response are made, — 

From drifting dust to chanting cherubim 

Who sight his face serene and unafraid ; 

The One who was before the worlds could swing 

In their completion round the central sun 

Inspired the touch that countless eons bring 

To frame the inspiration just begun ; 

And through the ages every quickening strain 

That echoes through the rarest works of men 

Has found the self-same glory to attain, 

Repeated over ever and again : 

All that is good or true in any wise 

Only through Him receives its radiant guise. 

m 



Ill 

I wonder who in some transcendent time 
Shall read the story of our wondrous race, 
And measure forth the full prolific rhyme 
That waits upon the truth we cannot trace. 
We only glimpse the bright, unbroken thread 
That reaches from the first resultant power 
Through all the forces that have surely led 
Into the largess of the passing hour ; 
But when the sense of some surpassing seer 
Awakens in the world's supreme advance, 
Then all the splendid purpose shall appear 
That overrules the meanest circumstance, 
And men shall fathom out the blessed way 
That treasures up its gold in such poor clay. 



113 



IV 

Whatever beauty this dear life may see 
In full expression of divine intent, 
From first to last its matchless poetry 
Reflects the Christ in every element. 
What precious art found fruitage in the earth 
Before the dayspring touched the weary sky, 
Its ministry was guided in the worth 
The Son of God illumined from on high. 
And since he drained the sacrificial cup, 
Utmost humanity at last complete. 
Whatever loveliness is lifted up 
Bears out the mission of the Paraclete. 
The comfort and the joy and deep acclaim 
Attest the spirit of the cloven flame. 

115 



thou Great Love wherein all other love 
Must find the secret of its farthest sphere, 
The least adventure were enough to prove 
The need of love too great for any fear. 
And thy majestic work in shaping out 
Such royal profit for the heart of man 
Fulfills the freedom that is borne about 
The endless growth of his appointed plan. 
Thy tender touch hath set no metes or bounds 
Save its own law in any soul or sense, — 
No limit holds the promise that surrounds 
The imagery of thy omnipotence ; 
And love begetting love, it shall define 
From step to step its uttermost design. 



U7 



VI 

Some things there be upon this sounding shore 
Where music makes such endless mysteries 
That have no measure in our deepest lore 
For any phase of their glad harmonies. 
But faith and feeling through the sacred tide 
Have no despair or danger of eclipse, 
Though every word may haply be denied 
That might affirm the great apocalypse ; 
And when the happy hope has passed the bar 
That holds it here from its supernal joy, 
No melody can be too fine or far 
For its unfettered forces to employ; 
The vision and the voice shall then essay 
All that the earthly form could not convey. 

U9 



VII 

The end of song and its supreme delight, 
The end of life and its remotest art, 
Are given forth when life and song unite 
In keeping with the heavenly counterpart. 
When human love completes the shining round 
That love's divinity has breathed upon. 
And through the white effulgence God is found 
Blending the beauty of celestial dawn ; 
Then life and love together shall behold, 
As born anew within their vast estate. 
Their larger labor fitted to the mould 
That most exalted effort shall create, — 
And more and more the singer shall abide 
Whom love and life have wholly satisfied. 

121 



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